


Possessed by the Pole

by Dolavine



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Pole Dancing, pole dancing Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-04
Updated: 2013-11-04
Packaged: 2017-12-31 12:56:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1031950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dolavine/pseuds/Dolavine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam tries his hand at pole dancing to make a little extra money.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Possessed by the Pole

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to selecasharp for the beta and inspiration.

Dean tries to talk Sam out of it, but Sam’s always had his own mind. “Dean, we need the cash and I’m more than willing to bite the bullet since your arm’s still injured.” He’s slipping on the cowboy boots as he speaks, while Dean oils up his shoulder blades. 

“It’s not an easy gig, Sammy. These things can get really rough.” 

Sam’s looking at his oiled muscles in the mirror. “I can handle it, it can’t be that hard.” 

Dean snickers. “Oh, they like it hard,” he says and slaps Sam’s ass. 

Sam gives him a dark glare. He puts on his Stetson and wipes a smudge of eyeliner from under his eyes. “How do I look?” He shakes his shoulders as he tries to loosen up. 

Dean looks him up and down, then reaches out and straightens out the Texas-shaped brass belt buckle while adjusting Sam’s chaps. “There, perfect.” He slaps Sam’s bare ass cheek again. 

Sam glares again. “Don’t rough up the merchandise, it’s gotta make us big bucks tonight.” 

Dean apologizes, then grabs at Sam’s package and pulls it out, slipping his fingers inside of the g-string. He adjusts it so that it’s all pushed forward and making quite the spectacle through the big Texas star. Sam grunts. “Jesus, Dean, handle with care.” He reaches down and smoothes over it. 

“Got to keep the jewels visible,” Dean laughs. 

Sam’s nervous; he’s only ever watched Dean strut his stuff on stage before and never thought he’d be filling his big brother’s shoes like this. He steps to the edge of the curtain and puts his hands on his hips as he hears the MC announcing the character. “Let’s hear it for the roughest, toughest, cowboy in Texas, Rawhide!”

Sam swallows hard as the sweat gathers on his forehead before the lights even hit him.

The music starts and he struts out on stage, tips his hat and thrusts his hips forward.   
The lights catch his well-oiled six pack and the grooves of his hips as the tan leather chaps are falling off of his Apollo’s belt. He puts his thumbs under the waistband of his chaps and pushes them down enough that the thick dark curls of his pubic line show. 

The dark blue sheen of his g-string catches in the harsh light, drawing attention to his bulging package, the outline of the state of Texas star engorged with his manhood. He’s pumping his hips to the techno western beat. Sam pretends to lasso someone in the audience, then turns, bends over and shakes his bare ass cheeks in their direction. He winks at several people and shoots them a kiss with his finger before blowing the tip of it like he’s blowing smoke from the end of a six shooter. 

Dean’s watching him from behind the curtain backstage. He’s impressed with how well he’s doing the act, but is worried he won’t be able to work the pole as well as the chaps.

But then Sam reaches the end of the runway where the pole is, puts a hand on it and swivels his hips at the audience before leaning against it like a cowboy, tilting his hat down over his brow and resting against the pole. The music blends into a Wanted Dead or Alive techno mix and he presses his back to the pole as he grips the sides of his chaps. Then the words chime out. 

“I’m a cowboy..” belts out through the room as he rips them off and throws them to the side. He looks straight into the crowd and pushes his hips forward. Then he turns dramatically and whips off his hat, tossing it into the audience to a throng of whoops and catcalls as he thrusts into the long silver pole in front of him. “On this steel horse I ride, I’m wanted… dead or alive,” mixes back into the techno beat. 

Sam loses himself inside of the music; he feels the rush of adrenaline pumping through his body as he swings around the pole, wrapping his long tanned leg seductively around the metal as he slips that long body up and down in serpentine motions. He feels hands on his legs and he manages to block it out so that he doesn’t freak out. He keeps dancing, keeps moving that tall lean muscular frame in the most seductive moves he can manage.

He’s moving down the pole, his back against it, hands above his head, hips arched out until his knees are on the floor, his eyes closed as he lets the music guide him. He feels hands and paper being shoved into his Texas blue and white g-string, but he doesn’t open his eyes. 

It’s fast and slow at the same time as he finds himself crawling across the stage like a lion on the prowl, his tight, bare ass cheeks in the air, his palms slipping on the sweat and oil across the stage floor. He grabs the pole on the other side and hoists himself up slowly, the beat a thrumming sound in his head as he caresses the steel like a lover before spinning around it, thrusting into it, bringing his knee up, grinding his crotch into its unforgiving force, then arching his back, his sweaty wet hair hanging in thick tendrils as the music ends. “I’m a cowboy... I’m wanted, dead or alive…” 

Once he’s backstage again, Dean pulls the money out of the back of his g-string and ass cheeks. “Damn, Sammy, I think you were possessed out there,” he says, straightening out the bills. 

Sam reaches in and pulls a wad out of his crotch. “This shit hurts, I think I have a paper cut on my balls,” he mutters and looks for blood. His boots are full of money and the stage manager brings back what was just thrown up on stage. Sam just looks; he can’t believe the amount. 

“I guess I wasn’t wrong when I told you I wanted the Texas star to be right over your cock, now was I, Sam?” Dean waggles his eyebrows. 

“It’s Texas, bigger is always better,” Sam smiles.


End file.
